The dull, blank stain of a Walker
by LuAnn18
Summary: It is a perfect sunny day, gathering supplies, enjoying each other's company: one succinct unit. But they can never truly escape the dull, blank stain of a Walker.


**My first ever one-shot. ****Hope you enjoy x**

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**Day Out**

Sighing softly, contentment fills the young male as he leans against the wooden fence, basking his tanned face in the warm sunshine. His shaggy, unruly hair swishes gently in the breeze as he absorbs the sounds around him. Birds whistling, squirrels scratching; his hearing is so attuned he even notes the gentle, calm foraging of a deer nearby. He still smiles as the deer, somewhere close within the surrounding woodland, suddenly leaps away, disappearing into the thicket.

Opening his eyes as he glances around, the male spots what startled the graceful creature. Though not what was expected, he remains cautious, staring straight into those yellowish eyes. For a moment he wonders if it is alone, then spies four, five – no, seven more slightly further away, skirting around trees and over stray logs. Two seem quite young. They move slowly towards him, transfixed.

Barely a moment goes by before their attention is diverted towards the horses tied up a few metres away from the young man, closer to the tree line. Large in comparison and easily capable of protecting themselves, they shift nervously, evidently uncomfortable with the close proximity of the virtual shadows dancing through the greenery. A couple even stamp their hooves in agitation. The young man, though mostly not worried, wonders for a moment whether he will require the use of his gun. Barely reaching for the weapon attached to his belt, the creatures slink off into the forest, interests taking them elsewhere.

"You good?"

Attuned to the presence behind him, Carl glances Sophia in his peripheral vision, taking note of her relaxed, yet assured grip on her crossbow. She raises a delicate brow at him, a slight grin tugging at one corner of her mouth. Her blonde hued locks cascade freely around her shoulders, helping to shade her face from the glaring sunshine. Her eyes crinkle with apparent amusement, though a hint of concern sparks within those emerald orbs.

"Why?" Carl grins, fully turned towards the young female whilst slowly backing up to the horses. "Were you worried about me?"

He takes note that whatever miniscule level of concern she held for him has now vanished. Glaring half-heartedly, Sophia shoulders her crossbow, walking forward and gracefully hopping over the fence. Nearly losing his footing as the capable young woman deliberately bumps past him, playing at irritation, Carl loudly belts a laugh in response to her next words – or as loud as he is willing given their day and age.

"I was merely wondering if you were going to become dog food. A rather amusing image to brighten my day." Turning back to her friend, untying four of the horse's reigns before mounting one, her own chuckle escapes her as Carl's amusement becomes predictably contagious.

Lightly kicking her horse into action, Sophia pokes out her tongue at him before guiding the horses through the small village. Chuckling still, Carl quickly unties the remaining five, clambering on one and lightly trotting after her. The silence between them is far from awkward. The duo have known each other for years and have worked together in tandem since almost the very beginning. Their methods have barely changed, alongside the seven others who form part of their original group; from the outskirts of Atlanta all the way to those first few trying months in the Prison so long ago. Admittedly, slight adaptions are obvious and expected as their family grew over time.

Carl is particularly enjoying this outing. Of course, he holds nothing against the others currently back home, but he feels a subtle sense of . . . elation, perhaps. The original kids from their first year in this world have been out scavenging for supplies since dawn. Though they all work on the same wavelength and possess differing skills and strengths, they do like to switch around their tasks each time. That is the reason Carl was keeping an eye on the horses and watching out for any possible threat. Predominantly Walkers, yet humans can certainly present substantial problems too.

That being said, no one is ever placed in a position they cannot handle, for such an error in judgement can be just as dangerous as outside forces. Carl certainly does not obtain the level of skill in tracking that Sophia does. Sophia is also amazing with her crossbow – Daryl really taught her well – and holds tremendous skill with her blades – curtesy of Merle. However, an old break a few years ago has weakened her resolve to the kickback any gun provides, yet Carl continues to hold the title for _best shot_ amongst the youngsters.

"They are becoming less cautious."

Carl is startled from his musings. Sheepishly glancing at Sophia, he catches the roll of her eyes and slight shake of her head as they continue to plod along. He is glad only she played witness to his minor distraction from surveilling their surroundings. He was even able to tune out the rhythmic clipity-clop of the horses. No matter where they are, however serene, quiet and peaceful their location appears, any lack in concentration can be detrimental. Sophia dismisses his apology – there was no harm done after all – and repeats her concerns.

"You mean the wolves?" He needn't have asked.

Carl certainly would not have enjoyed shooting any of those stunning animals, not only to avoid alerting nearby Walkers. They have silencers for a reason, after all. The wolves were showing rather a lot of interest in him and their horses. Perhaps it was just curiosity. Perhaps humans and horses provide good company to woodland animals who probably see Walkers on a daily basis. Nevertheless, they are predators by nature and pack animals to boot. Had the wolves attacked the horses, Carl and the others currently out scavenging for supplies would have reason to worry. Their animals are not only part of the community, protected with the same severity as anyone, they are also important for food, work and specifically transportation for trips such as this one.

Expressing his thoughts, Sophia ponders quietly for a while. Carl glances at her, though pays due attention to their current vicinity, no longer allowing his mind to journey down memory lane. The pair have now left the entrance to the surrounding forests behind them, calmly making their way through the small lanes towards the other side of the quaint village where the others presumably wait. They are very lucky to have found this place; the design of the buildings are new from seven years before and there are more supplies than one would expect to find after so long. Off the beaten path, not many have reason to stumble upon the largely untouched homes and stores. Plus, very few Walkers have made it through, at least recently, and for once the group did not come across even one grossly decaying body in the homes they perused. This place portrays a sense of survival not often defined elsewhere.

"Even so, animals always could be unpredictable." Sophia tugs gently on the reins, Carl following her lead as they stop outside a rustic styled pub. "You know I watched those nature shows growing up." Carl nods his affirmation. "The one thing they always said was, you can never truly domesticate a wild animal."

Shrugging his shoulders, Carl scans the area.

"I reckon we face a larger threat against feral dogs."

He recalls the moment he laid eyes on the wolf, forming a connection, maybe. Staring into those yellow hued irises, not the dull, blank stain of a Walker. Carl almost sensed the bright spark, the excitement coursing through that animal. There seemed to be an understanding, a mutual respect, between two living beings. _Survivors_ in their often bleak and devastating world. Yet, he does understand Sophia's concern. He felt it too; that worrisome moment he motioned for his gun.

"Those wolves probably saw company they preferred over Walkers. Perhaps we are the better case scenario." Sophia considers his words. Her current stance is more so practical, arguably more realistic.

Irrespective of her trepidation, over the years they have all adopted a sense of open-mindedness to truly live within this changed existence, rivalling even the most optimistic. It is not difficult to remember the beginning of it all, those terrifying years that were virtually non-existent, motionless. It is easy to appreciate everything they had Before – food, shelter, fresh water, ease of travel. And those are only the essentials. Or, rather, the _essential_ essentials. Hygiene, however detrimental to human health, is a luxury one cannot always afford these days: clean clothes, soap, toothpaste, shaving cream, moisturisers. Then there is the impossible, from owning a sports car or a luxurious villa to holidays in the Bahamas or the Caribbean. Calm relaxing days with nothing better to do than laze around is just as likely to never happen again. However, still allowing oneself to take each day as it comes, to a certain degree, certainly keeps the excitement alive.

"Perhaps." She concedes. The pair faintly hear the others inside the pub a moment before the oak door opens. "We still need to prepare for all possible scenarios."

As though her words were predetermined, the distinct moaning of the dead carries on the wind. They all hear it, a dreadful sound so unmistakable. Surveying the area, Carl cannot see anything other than empty streets and desolate buildings. Wherever the threat may be, it is not here which can only mean there must be a herd as little as one mile away. Their family has spent so many years navigating their new lives that determining a situation has become second nature. In much the same way people understood currency and the value of money Before, Survivors' know instinctively whether their circumstances are safe or cause for concern.

"We should leave." Duane.

Carl nods an affirmative as his friend secures his backpack, the others following suit. He and Sophia release the excess reins so the others can swiftly mount. A calamity and peace of mind has passed as the pure sense of survival kicks in. Within no more than sixty seconds, nine horses and their riders' race from the village, leaving the untouched spit of land in their wake. They have more than they could hope for, more than they set out to achieve. It is certainly a good thing they always leave in preparation for that lucky find. Sighing as the group catch sight of their first Walker of the day, Carl spurs his horse onwards, home.

"They couldn't just leave one place alone, could they?"

A grim silence follows Billy's question, for there is no need to offer a response. Words cannot express the thoughts and feelings the nine friends shared, believing they truly found the perfect place - untouchable to the horrors of everywhere. But, as always, such extravagant ideas are only ever a pipe dream within the dismal clutches of their reality.

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**Thank you for taking the time to read my fic x**

**As of right now this fic is a stand-alone, however I have ideas (and am continually conjuring ideas) for a universe I have created within The Walking Dead fandom, involving prequels and sequels and all our favourite characters.**

**So, if you enjoyed reading my fanfic and would like to know what else Carl and the guys have been up to up until this point and will get up to in the future, feel free to keep a weather eye :D**


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